


Therapy - Hudders Style

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awesome Mrs. Hudson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Frustrated John Watson, Insecure Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 22:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Sometimes she's their landlady/not housekeeper, but sometimes she's so much more.





	Therapy - Hudders Style

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Links](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Links/gifts), [Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/gifts), [NovaNara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/gifts).



> Tea and scones isn't always the answer. Mrs. Hudson knows when it's time for more drastic measures and stages an intervention.

Martha Hudson knew the sounds of her beloved building better than anyone. The clanging boiler, banging water pipes, the creaky stairs, popping boards of the second floor landing and the groaning of the wooden hallway were all old friends. This was the way 221 Baker Street spoke to her. So when the front door began to "talk", she listened.

The loud slam, resulting in the brass knocker cracking like a rifle shot, told her nothing, save that her Boys were home from their latest adventure. She would trust the walls to tell the tale. 

A muted conversation and a slow climb of the stairs, was her cue to come bearing tea and scones, and prepare to be amazed. Unrestrained giggles and the sounds of the steps being taken two at a time, was a signal to turn up the telly and wait until the passionate moans and thumping stopped before she ventured out of her happily self-imposed isolation. Raised voices and crashing furniture required a stern approach, without taking sides, and making sure peace was restored.

This was none of those however. The voices were clearly angry, but rather than loud, they were deep and guttural as if real danger was afoot, setting her teeth on edge and requiring Mrs. Hudson - "Unlicensed" Therapist.

As she made her way to 221B, she could just make out John growling "be sensible and stop acting ridiculous". Sherlock in turn hissed "you're the one about to come to his senses - so leave now and save yourself the trouble". As John rasped "come to MY senses? I'm not the one going to be bloody leaving!", she simply barged in, unannounced.

"See here you two, what is going on up here?"

John, red in the face, took a deep breath and answered, "It's nothing, Martha. Don't be alarmed."

"Doesn't sound like nothing to me John Watson. Sounds like something likely to bring the Yard down here. Sherlock, what do you have to say?"

Alarmingly pale, the detective only cast her a baleful glare.

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man."

"Whaaat tone", he stammered, "I didn't say a word."

"Exactly! That dirty look said it for you and I won't have it! Since you refuse to speak up, I'll do the talking. Sit down, both of you, this instant."

Sighing heavily, John slumped into his chair awaiting the inevitable Hudders interrogation, but Sherlock turned his back making for the couch. Before he could get there, Martha grabbed the wooden ruler off the desk and whacked his bottom soundly.

As Sherlock turned, too startled to even yip, she fairly roared, "I said sit down!!" Sherlock sat.

"Now I overheard enough to know, this is no ordinary row. John", she said with a wry smile, "you're the older 'boy', so what say you tell me what has both your knickers in a twist, and why Sherlock thinks you're leaving him."

"Dammit to hell! Sorry, sorry. Yes, I'm angry, as I tend to be when this git fancies himself immortal and impervious to bullets, knives and explosives, but I am NOT leaving or even talking about leaving! That's HIS story, not mine."

"I wasn't in any danger! At any rate, it's beside the point. As I said, soon enough you'll come to your senses and walk away. Why wouldn't you? It's only sensible!"

"Who the fuck said I was sensible?!"

At this, Martha was struggling to suppress a laugh, so she barked out, "I've heard all I need to. John, obviously he's been an arse again, and Sherlock, you're having another attack of feeling insecure."

"Mrs. Hudson, this isn't your business, it's between John and me, and I do NOT have attacks of insecurity or any other kind! Now I am going to my room."

The ruler made contact with the crown of his head with a thump, causing even John to protest, "Martha, not his head."

"Don't fret dear. You're the one always saying how hardheaded he is, besides he has enough product in those curls it's a wonder the ruler didn't break. Now, I'm hearing a great deal of palaver about coming to one's senses. So, let's do that shall we? Let's talk senses. John what was the first thing your eyes said to you about Sherlock, and don't dawdle, we ARE discussing this and I'm going to charge by the hour for my services. What did you see?"

Resigned to his fate, John cleared his throat roughly and began. "First thing of course, he was bloody gorgeous, all cheekbones, and Christ, those eyes. It was like looking into another world."

"Now you, Sherlock, what did you see?"

"I don't see why...must we...FINE!! I could tell he was hurt, but not broken, and he had such a strong, sturdy body with a handsome and kind face. His smile lit up the room."

"Now we're making progress, Boys. What about hearing, John."

"That's an easy one. Who wouldn't melt when that deep voice washes over you like an ocean wave, you could drown in it."

Realizing he wouldn't be prompted this time, Sherlock added, "John, too has a pleasing voice, but it was his laugh. That night when we stood giggling in the hall, I thought that if light could make a sound, John's laugh would be that sound."

"Thank you, Sherlock. John, what about smell?"

"Another easy one. His posh shampoo and body wash. Always puts me in mind of an exotic fruit salad, with just a hint of chemical experiments thrown in for good measure, and something I can only describe as Sherlockscent."

"John is...", a mischievous smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, "what can I say, the usual smells of kiddie poop and vomit."

The ruler slapped the leather of Sherlock's chair menacingly, but the face of the person who held it wasn't too severe.

"Apologies. John smells like warm wool, sweet tea, takeaway Chinese, you know... sentiment, and other drivel."

Now, all three were smiling. "Good, Sherlock. John, how about touch?"

At that word, both men blushed lightly. "That one is much more hard to describe, but I'll try. That first day, when I handed him my phone, our fingers only brushed, but it was like something had completed an electrical circuit, and honestly, I felt the shock for hours. Now, the way we are, when I'm touching Sherlock it's like touching quicksilver. It's unattainable, a liquid that could slip through my fingers, but then it becomes solid and it's as if I've captured moonlight in my hands."

Sherlock actually gasped at that, and didn't respond.

"Come along, Sherlock. That was lovely, nothing to say to John in return?"

"This is not my area. I'm not sure..." John reached across the space between them and placed a warm palm on Sherlock's knee.

"From the start, I was affected by John's touch. Handing me a cup of tea, tending to my various, ah, unfortunate work related injuries, a hand on my shoulder whether in restraint or comfort, I always felt something, all the while denying it. Then, we finally stopped being idiots, and I was given the privilege of touching him as I wished. When I touched and kissed his scar, it felt like the greatest gift I had ever been given, and I realized how very precious his life is to me. A life that was almost taken away before we even met."

By now, Martha was dabbing at misty eyes and gazing fondly at her two misbehaving children, judging the therapy session nearing an end. "Boys, I don't mean to leave things here incomplete, but my shows are coming on soon. Besides, there's only the sense of taste left to discuss, and I think that's one best left to the two of you alone. Can I count on you to finish the exercise without me?"

"You have my word, Martha. Sherlock and I promise we'll finish what you started."

"Hudders, you can count on us. Wouldn't dare let down our best girl."

"Good! I expect no more of this nonsense for the foreseeable future from either of you, especially you Sherlock. John, you'd better take this just in case." She handed him the ruler.

"Mrs. Hudson, what makes you think I'm the one that's going to need smacking?"

"The law of averages and years of experience, dear. I'll just be downstairs, but I doubt you'll be needing me."

John kissed her cheek as Sherlock gave her a hug. "Sherlock and I will ALWAYS need you."

 

***~~~***

 

When Martha was safely downstairs with her stories and a G&T, the Boys turned their attention to the task at hand.

"Taste, yeah?", John smirked.

"We have our assignment, John. I don't like the idea of disappointing, Hudders."

"Perish the thought."

 

Gloriously naked in bed, John had Sherlock dissolved in a fit of giggles. "It's like some poncy buffet at the Dorchester", John rumbled as he licked his way down the long pale body underneath him. "Peacock neck, breast meat, spareribs, ticklish are we? Where was I? Oh yes, juicy thighs, pickled toes- Oy! No kicking you. Let's see - rump roast, and what have we here? 'Course, dessert, a big lolli, but this one is already melting and dripping. Best get it in my mouth before it's too late."

All too soon Sherlock was howling as he climaxed down John's silky smooth mouth and throat. "THAT was the best meal I've had in a long time, beautiful."

"Glad you approve Doctor. I must say you seem to have quite a knowledge of this taste thing. Mind if I give it a go?"

"Taste away, Mister Holmes."

Shortly after feeling his eyes roll back in his head, John came back to himself to find Sherlock tenderly cleaning them both with a warm flannel.

"Enjoy yourself? Taste your full?"

"Indeed, John. Couldn't you tell?"

"Don't know. I was being rather rowdy and you weren't saying anything."

"I couldn't seem to form words. Being preoccupied with my taster's duties rendered me rather mute."

"Didn't stop your mouth though."

"So, ah, not leaving me?"

"Not now, not ever! Finally believe me?"

"Yes, my wonderful John."

"Well tell me, sweetheart, what does a serving of old rooster taste like?"

"More Beef Wellington, Captain, but to answer your question, it tastes like love."

 

***~~~***

 

Much later in the evening, Martha made her way upstairs, knocking politely this time, bringing a Shepherd's Pie and a decadent chocolate cake.

She joined them for supper, delighted by their excellent appetites and enthusiasm for her cooking.

John poured another glass of wine for them and smiled, "We should be cooking for you, and there's the matter of your fee."

"Don't be bothered about that, John. Just don't have anymore of those, well, let's call them misunderstandings, and I will consider myself paid in full."

"I can't promise you there won't be anymore domestics, Martha, but what almost happened today will never happen again."

Sherlock leaned back emitting a decidedly uncouth belch, earning him a slightly disapproving but nonetheless indulgent nod from his blogger and his landlady.

"Rest assured, we've both come to our senses AND learned a valuable lesson. It's all thanks to you, and your awesome talent: Therapy - Hudders Style."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed The Boys coming to their senses - together. Let me know.
> 
> Wishing everyone a brilliant Merry Month of May. ❤️❤️ Pat
> 
> P.S. Who else thinks Hudders should be the next Marvel Superhero?


End file.
